Shattered
by Dokuganryu
Summary: Dark!Eleven drabble. Guilt returns to haunt the Doctor and he does what he knows best to try and clear his nagging conscience. Warnings: Descriptive violence and swearing.


**A/N: Not an anime/manga fic for once! Recently got back into Doctor Who and thought i'd try my hand at writing some fiction. Dark!Eleven is such fun to write, so I may very well write some more!**

His hearts drummed against his ribcage as he paced down the winding corridors of the TARDIS, sweaty palms fiddling nervously with his bow tie as he tugged it off, letting it fall carelessly to the floor behind him. His shirt came next, unceremoniously cast aside as he swung one of the heavy doors open, taking care to shut it quietly so as not to wake the Ponds as they lay asleep in their bunk beds. The Doctor muttered something to himself before stopping to stand in front of a dust clad mirror, his old eyes scanning the glass pane as if they were searching for something. He flinched slightly when he found what he was looking for.

Ten pairs of eyes glared at him, all with the same expression etched onto their faces. He'd be staring out of the mirror one day, with the exact same look, at his future self. He wanted to scream at them, cry out for them to stop it, but for once, the Time Lord was lost for words. Instead, he remained fixated on his past selves, his anxiety getting the better of him as he paced slightly. It was then he heard it. The same message delivered in different voices to the far corners of his mind, invading every possible thought in the Gallifreyan's head.

"You selfish man, haven't you learned your lesson?"

His mouth opened to protest the words, but how could he protest what he knew to be the truth? Who knew him better than himself after all? "No...No...No...NO!" The Doctor screamed at the top of his lungs, his fist colliding with the mirror before he knew what he was doing. It thoroughly shattered the glass, the voices fading away as the shards clattered to the floor one by one. Pain tore through his right hand as fragments were embedded in his knuckles, thick red liquid trickling across his pale skin.

"No...NO! They wanted to come! It's different this time! NO! It's not. It's the damn same!" The Doctor snapped to an empty room, feeding himself the same line and feeling the same agony he did each time he looked into that mirror. He absent-mindedly looked to his ravaged hand, swearing under his breath. "Careful. I Need to be careful." The Doctor mumbled, recalling how some of his previous companions had born witness to scars across his body, scars he'd caused himself as penance for their pain he'd caused with, in his mind, his own selfishness.

He'd promised himself Amy would be different. Little Amelia Pond. The girl who waited and waited for him. Her Raggedy Doctor. He couldn't let her end up like the others...So many others...Donna, Martha, Rose, Grace, Ace, Peri, Tegan, Adric, Sarah-Jane, Jo, Jamie, Zoe, Susan...

The heat of his blood warming his icy skin broke his spiralling train of thought, the lacerations oozing fresh blood as he flexed his fingers, causing sharper jolts of pain through his nervous system as the fragments of glass shifted about. Sweet, delicious agony coursed through him, raging through his veins and nerves like a storm. To him, it was the pain he deserved. Though it wasn't enough to satisfy his carnal thirst for his own punishment. The entirety of his body's blood did not equate (and it never would) the amount of his companion's spilled over the years. That was a thought he loathed more than anything. The latest edition to the bloody legacy lay sleeping upstairs.

The trusting fools.

Slowly, the Doctor raised a shard of glass, a large, sharp fragment, fingering it with fascination.

They were a _couple._

He clutched the shard with a shaking hand, letting it cut deep into his fingers.

They were _married._

He made no sound as he plunged the shard into his bare left arm, viciously lacerating his skin, watching with gleeful eyes as blood spurted and spilled out of the cuts.

They were _happy._

Dark, sinister laughter echoed in the Time Lord's mind as he plunged the shard in once more, cutting deeper, possibly even to the bone.

He was fucking them up, but of course, they didn't see it like that. They just saw it as fun.

Crimson pooled beneath him, soaking his bare feet. Whimsically he splashed his feet about in the pool, like a child would with a puddle of water after a rain storm. He left the shard impaled into his arm, eyes scoping the room for another piece he could use to do the same to the other arm, or maybe to his leg, his chest, his stomach, his-

"Doctor? Are you in there?"

Shit. Amy. "Y-yes Pond! I'm in here all right, just fiddling with my bow tie and the like, I'll be out in a bit. Never mind me...Go on back to Rory and get some sleep. Time Lord's don't bother with that rubbish!" His tone was slightly shaky and unconvincing to him, so he knew Amy wouldn't buy it either, which was highly troublesome.

"Fixing your bow tie? But I saw your bow tie on the floor...A-and your shirt is here too Doctor. Please, is anything wrong?" She was starting to worry, her hand apprehensively reaching for the door.

Damn that ginger bitch. Damn his own carelessness. Why couldn't she just fuck off back to her less than average husband and leave him alone in his thoughts for 5 fucking minutes?! "Amelia. I'm going to say this once. Leave me alone for a little while, okay?" He forced back his bitter thoughts, the bile in his throat sitting uneasily as he realised telling her to leave him would only worry her more. _How human,_ he thought bitterly to himself.

Okay, now_ that_ had worried her immensely. "Doctor? Please if anything is wrong just-"

The door swung open with a loud clang (_Sorry old girl..._ He thought, she always did hate having her doors treated badly) and the Doctor emerged before her. His left arm fully exposed for her to see the grisly extent of the damage he'd caused himself, his aged eyes staring straight into hers which were now wide with a mix of fear and horror. "Amelia, I am perfectly fine." Each syllable sounded grated and inhuman as it left his lips.

The silence that fell following his words was only punctuated by the Doctor's blood dripping onto the floor. Amy didn't know what to do...Or say for that matter. Her vision darted across the Doctor's body, moving from the gory sight of his left arm to the dead look in his eyes. She was numb to the tears slowly rolling down her cheeks as her body was reacting to the sight before her mind had fully comprehended it. The red head wanted to run. Run so far from her raggedy Doctor, but she was rooted to the spot.

"Amelia-"

She found her voice. The most inhuman wail the Doctor had ever heard left her lips as she fell to her knees, almost touching the growing pool of the Gallifreyan's blood. The Doctor just watched as she sucked in desperate breaths of air through her sobs. Instead of comforting her, he turned his back and closed the door gently, leaving her to lament on the other side of it. He ran his blood stained fingers through his hair, slicking it to his head with the thick liquid, taking a deep breath as he carelessly ripped the shard out of his arm, letting it clatter aimlessly to the floor.

Scrambling footsteps and the broken cries of "Rory! RORY!" could be heard echoing down the corridor outside, and the Doctor just did his best to ignore it, humming an old Gallifreyan tune to himself instead. Maybe now she'd leave him, then he could know she'd be safe. To a degree, he did care about Rory, but only because Amy held him so highly. He didn't want him, he wanted her. He wanted Amy to be his and his alone. His dear, sweet Amelia Pond.

His eyes stung with tears as he realised he didn't want her to leave him. He needed her...Like I used to need Rose. His thoughts rang clear to him about how truly fickle he could be. There was no question he shared special bonds with his companions, but that ''special'' bond was no different from the next, nor the one after that. He was often haunted by the partners who'd met the bitterest of ends, knowing that if they'd never set eyes on him they'd still be alive and happy.

Perhaps that was his fate as a renegade Time Lord. He'd told Rose the reason he ditched his companions was because he couldn't bare seeing them grow old and die. Those words did hold truth, but they were not the only reason he lost his travelling partners. He never told her about those that perished or the ones he pretty much fucked over. No, instead he let her experience it for herself.

All because he was a foolish old man who craved attention, using human after human (and sometimes, alien) to quell the ever growing want for admiration that rose within him. It seemed to grow with each regeneration, and he had no idea if it was just him who felt this. Perhaps his old friend the Master had the same inward feelings, which is why he chose to marry that poor Lucy Saxon woman. The Doctor tutted to himself when he thought about that and all the times the Master had judged him for keeping human ''pets'' for company. At least he'd never betrothed one for profit.

Dizziness began to fill his mind as he lost more blood from the deep wound, his surroundings losing structure. Wordlessly he reached into the drawer in the dresser that held the broken mirror atop it, pulling out a vial of thick, clear liquid. He uncorked it with his teeth, carefully pouring it along the length of the worst of the open cut, watching as the clear liquid stopped the bleeding (though a small amount of bleeding remained), creating a sort of skin over the lacerated flesh. "I'm thinking too hard again." The Doctor said to himself, ignoring the increasing sound of Amy's terrified voice as it rang through the TARDIS.

He exited the room and picked up his shirt, putting it on like nothing was wrong, taking care to do all the buttons up, the left sleeve slowly becoming a dark shade of red as he paced. He knew what to do, he knew everything would be okay again. His path would begin with Amy being safe, and for once in his life he was going to do the right thing and take her and Rory straight back to Leadworth where they could live happily without him.

Who was he kidding. Of course he damn well wouldn't.


End file.
